Victim of Myself
by dream-maker016
Summary: I'm a victim of countless wars and battles. I'm a victim of society. I'm a victim of this cold, cold world. You can't allow yourself to become a victim. That's what gets you killed. That's insignificant, because that wasn't what killed me in the end.


Once, I had a lifetime at my fingertips.

Once, I had bright eyes and a deck of Mythomagic cards.

Once, I had a family.

Once, I found out I was worthless.

Once, I found out I was an outcast.

Once, I lost the only family I'd ever known.

Once, I was forgotten.

More than once, I hid in the bathroom of my dark new cabin and carved on my skin: nothing.

I'm Nico Di Angelo and I'm full of scars.

There are scars on my face from battle.

There are scars on my legs from falling down.

There are scars on my stomach from monsters- and not just the mythical kind.

There are scars on my arms from my knife in my own hand.

There are scars on my mind from the things I've seen, the things I've done, the crazy inside of me.

There are scars on my heart from this world so cold.

I'm Nico, son of Hades, and I'm a fearless bastard. I'm a badass good fighter with a dark side and a sharp edge. I don't need anyone else and it's not a good idea to piss me off. I'm a freak, I'm an outcast and I'm not worth much.

I'm also Nico Di Angelo, and I cry myself to sleep. I'm a scared little boy with no one who cares and nothing to live for. I say I don't need anyone else, and then I cry in the bathroom at midnight while the blood runs down my wrists. I'm crazy, I'm alone and I hope the knife slips because my life doesn't mean much.

I guess that's why I'm on the ground right now with my back pressed against the door. I guess that's why I see the flash of the knife through my tears and hear the rip as it cuts through my flesh again. I guess that's why the blood is growing thicker on the black tile floor with every drip from my hands. I guess that's why I throw the weapon across the room and punch a hole through the wall when I finally do get to my feet. Mentally, I'm still on the ground getting kicked while I'm down.

And I guess I always will be.

There's a knock on my cabin door. I put on a fake smile, looking at myself in the bathroom mirror with disgust. I quickly run water over my arms and press a black towel against it while I call, "Come on in Percy, be out in a second!"

Percy and Annabeth are the only ones who ever talk to me, and I'm not sure why. I assume it's to ease their conscience, to play the role of 'big cousin' to perfection. Perfection- like everything else they do.

Scowling, I wrap gauze sloppily around my arm before replacing my long sleeve black shirt. Black skinny jeans and combat boots complete the expected dark look of the resident son of hell.

"Hey." Percy greets me as I stride out of the bathroom. My regular smirk is firmly in place as I wave back carelessly.

"What brings you here, cuz?" I inquire, grabbing a can of coke out of the illicit mini fridge in my room before collapsing on my desk chair.

"I'm going on a run through the woods and thought you might like to come. You know Chiron- always bring back up, yada yada. What do you think?" My physically older cousin grinned obliviously. I considered carefully.

Running always did clear the racing thoughts from my manic mind, and it was better than sitting around here to stew in my own crazy.

"Sure. Let me change." I agreed, hopping up and trading my jeans for basketball shorts, removing my boots in favor of sleek black running shoes.

Half an hour later, we'd sprinted farther into the forest than I've ever been. Percy stopped short, skidding away from the edge of a high cliff that I'd never seen before. The drop was far, leading straight into the waters of the relatively calm Long Island Sound. I stopped too, but for a different reason.

Percy watched me nervously as I stepped up to the edge, enthralled. I reached a hand out over it, achieving the weightless feeling I'd always longed for. Open cuts released chemicals that made my head spin, and popping pills threw me up with the clouds. This, though, this was the real deal. This cliff could show me what flying really was.

Day after day, I'd return to that spot. I'd spend hours there, thinking and sinking into the ground. I'd blend with the skyline; lose myself in the Sound below.

I was losing myself. I was losing myself in my world, in my own mind, losing myself in my own name. I was losing myself in the essence of everything I was and I fucking loved it.

I'm a victim of countless wars and battles. I'm a victim of society. I'm a victim of this cold, cold world. You can't allow yourself to become a victim. That's what gets you killed. That's insignificant, because that wasn't what killed me in the end.

I'm a victim of my own mind.

Ha.

The day I died was the day I flew. The moment before I died was the day I finally lived.

Your lifetime is the day you were born and the day you die.

I was born on January 16.

I died on February 20.

That's what will be on my tombstone.

The rest of my life is just the dash in between.

It's not worth so much, is it?

…

**Dear god I've missed this. It's been so long since I've written something dark like this. So long since I've given in to the darkness, if you know what I mean. I've really missed it, and I know for a fact there are some other people who have too. Cough cough, awesomegirl13. Thank you so much for promoting and supporting me! Any readers should really check out her stories. Not only are her parodies hilarious, her real stories are fabulous. Thanks for reading, and review!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Percy Jackson.**


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